In Which Glimpses of Daily Castle Life Can Be Seen
by soaringXspirit
Summary: A 100 themes challenge. I chose to do it for Howl's Moving Castle, book style. But you can still follow along if you've only seen the movie. Pairing: Howl and Sophie  duh! Rated T, just in case ;
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: hey everyone! Ok, it seems that I can never finish a fanfic unless it's a one-shot. I still have so many unfinished pieces up on here. But…(and you guys are gonna hate me for this, I know), I'm starting a new one! it's one of those "100 themes" things. And guess which story I chose? HOWL'S MOVING CASTLE! hurray! I'm not sure if I'll get to every single theme, I mean, there are 100 of them after all. So bear with me, please!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Howl's Moving Castle, whether it be in book or movie form.**

**(just so you peeps know, I'm basing these themes after the book)**

**Theme 1: Introduction**

Howl said, "I think we ought to live happily ever after," and she thought he meant it. Sophie knew that living happily ever after with Howl would be a good deal more eventful than any story made it sound, though she was determined to try. "It should be hair-raising," added Howl.

"And you'll exploit me," Sophie said.

"And then you'll cut up all my suits to teach me," said Howl.

If Sophie or Howl had had any attention to spare, they might have noticed that Prince Justin, Wizard Suliman, and Mrs. Fairfax were all trying to speak to Howl, and that Fanny, Martha, and Lettie were plucking at Sophie's sleeves, while Michael was dragging Howl's jacket.

But Sophie and Howl were holding one another's hands and smiling and smiling, quite unable to stop.

And so our story begins. Yes, a little on the mushy side of the spectrum, but at least it has begun. Howell Jenkins, or as he is more commonly known, Howl Pendragon, has found his true love, a bright, spirited, and lovely girl named Sophie Hatter, the eldest of three sisters. You know what they say if you are born the eldest of three: you are bound to be a failure. Well, Sophie had certainly proved that old Ingarian belief to be false. With several discreet pushes and shoves from Howl, of course.

Howl was 27 years old, and by far the most dashing man in all of Ingary (and Wales for that matter). He was vain, narcissistic, stubborn, often times childish, cowardly proud, flamboyant, and a wonderful slither-outer. And that's only naming a few of his faults. But when Sophie popped into his life, she tapped into another part of him; the gentle, loving, courageous, honest (and slightly a little less self-centered) side of Howl. And Sophie was always pleased whenever she caught a glimpse of that side.

Sophie was 19 years old, but she certainly was much more mature than that. Even before somersaulting into the wild series of events that brought her back to her original age, she had been like another mother-figure to her two younger sisters. And when she was cursed to be a 90 year old woman, well, she did a fantastic job playing the part. She used to be quite shy, but she had outgrown that in her days as an old cleaning lady. She, like Howl, was stubborn (which resulted in many fights between the two), but she was also kind, caring, orderly, practical, and very, very loving. Though she was not the handsomest girl in all the land, she was still lovely, especially in the eyes of a certain wizard whom she cleaned for.

So, Sophie was able to successfully break the contract between Howl and his fire demon, Calcifer. Howl got his heart back and Calcifer was free to go wherever he wanted, though he still spent much time in the moving castle. Around the same time that she broke the contract, Sophie also broke her own curse. She was returned to the young woman that she really was. Several other curses were lifted that day too: Percival, the skull, and the scarecrow's bodies figured themselves out and Wizard Suliman and Prince Justin were returned to themselves at last. The Witch of the Waste and her fire demon, under the guise of Miss Angorian, were gone forever. Many hearts, not only Howl's, were healed that day: Michael and Martha could breathe a little easier, and Wizard Suliman found Lettie. It was quite an eventful day, to say the least.

This is the story of what happens after the story.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: yay for second chapter! Woohoo! **

**Theme: Love (oh good grief!)**

Michael was obviously nervous. He was fidgeting beyond all control. At the workbench, Howl would let out a yelp every few minutes when Michael would nearly spill a potion or break a vile. None of it was intentional of course, today was simply the biggest day in Michael's life, but nobody else knew it. After half an hour, Howl decided that his suit had enough battle scars.

"Alright, Michael my boy, what's wrong?" he asked, setting down his herbs and turning to face the apprentice straight on.

"N-nothing, Master Howl. Why would you say that?" Unfortunately for Michael, his voice betrayed his words.

Howl sighed and looked at the now 16 year old boy with an intense glare. Michael kept trying to avoid his Master's gaze, but finally broke down.

"I'm going to propose to Martha today!" Michael had never picked up on Howl's habits of slithering out of questions. Across the room, Sophie and Calcifer stopped their conversation and turned their heads to look over at the boy. Michael started looking everywhere around the room except those three pairs of eyes. He stood up, brushed off his work apron before hanging it up, fixed the collar of his best sit (which no one had noticed he was wearing until now), and headed over to the coat rack near the door.

"Well, I'll be off then! Sophie, I'll hopefully be home a bit before supper time," he said with a nervous laugh. Perhaps he had caught a bit of Howl's slithering ways after all. He was reaching towards the door knob to turn it to Market Chipping, when Howl rushed right in front of him.

"Oh no you don't. Not yet. We need to get you all fixed up." Howl's eyes twinkled, Michael gulped, and Sophie sighed and shared a knowing look with Calcifer. Howl grabbed his apprentice's wrist and dragged him upstairs. Sophie turned to the sink to finish drying the dishes and Calcifer munched on a twig.

A door opened, feet could be heard pattering inside, hands could be heard grabbing things, and then the door was slammed shut and the feet pattered over to another room. The same sequence occurred. Then a third door was opened, and from the faint smell of lavenders that emerged, Sophie knew it was the bathroom.

"Calcifer, hot water!" Sophie heard Howl call down. After much grumbling, Calcifer complied.

"Sophie, don't you think you should stop him? Before he disfigures Michael at least?" Calcifer asked, chewing on a second twig.

"Oh, Howl won't go that far. I do feel bad for Michael though, but I can use this opportunity to teach Howl a thing or two about the heart, well, hopefully," Sophie said, stacking the last of the dishes. She turned around, walking towards the workbench. "I might as well clean this up too," she sighed.

"Aren't you worried about Michael marrying your sister?" Calcifer chimed in after a minute. Just then they heard much coughing erupting from the bathroom. Sophie and Calcifer rolled their eyes.

"No, I'm not worried at all. Michael's a wonderful boy, I can vouch for that. Sure, he's not completely grown up and still has a lot to learn about the world, but isn't that the same for everyone? If he makes Martha happy, and if they really love each other, then who am I to complain and worry?" Calcifer was satisfied with that answer.

Sophie had organized, dusted, and polished half of the work bench when Howl ran downstairs.

"Lady and fire demon," he announced with an impish grin splashed across his face, "I am proud to present to you: Michael Fisher!" Howl made a grand gesture towards the stairs.

"Howl, must I?" they heard Michael whimper from the top.

"Yes, yes, of course! Now come on! You look dashing!" Howl hissed back.

Michael trudged down the stairs. His head was bowed the way a sad wet dog looks when its owner refuses to play catch. His face was twisted with even more nervousness than before and colored bright red with embarrassment.

Calcifer's eyes bugged out and Sophie's mouth hung open. There stood Michael in a suit of silver with blue embroidered flowers everywhere, a suit which Sophie was sure she had once spied in the very back of Howl's closet, tailored a little too snuggly to his frame, with silver slacks, matching silver dress shoes, and just about every single frill from the haberdashery imaginable. And…he smelled like a mixture of every single one of Howl's perfumes.

Calcifer snickered, trying to suppress a laugh, and Sophie covered her mouth in an attempt to contain her own laughter. Michael, to put it plainly, looked ridiculous.

"Well? Doesn't he look handsome? Takes after me, you know. After all, I practically raised him," Howl said, trying to break the silence. Sophie couldn't help herself anymore, not after Howl's little input. She burst into laughter. Calcifer followed suit. Michael's face reddened.

"H-h-Howl! You…you silly man! Michael was…perfect the way…the way he was!" Sophie finally managed to spit out between cackles. She had to steady herself on the work bench.

"Sophie! I am hurt! You must take into consideration Michael's desperate and noble cause! How rude of you, Sophie, really. And coming from the elder sister of Michael's beloved, of all things!" Howl snapped back melodramatically. He looked over to Calcifer in the fire grate. "And you're no help either!"

Sophie started to calm herself and was taking deep breaths. Finally she was able to speak in flowing sentences again:

"Michael, I am truly sorry you had to endure this. Why don't you go back upstairs and take another bath to get the stink of the perfumes off. Calcifer?" She looked over to her fiery friend.

"Hot water, coming right up!" he replied willingly.

"Michael, you can put your good suit back on after that. You looked very handsome in it," Sophie told him. Michael relaxed and gave Sophie a very grateful smile, zipping up the stairs before Howl could catch him.

"Now, Mr. Jenkins. I'd like to have a word with you," Sophie said. Somewhere throughout the events of the afternoon her subconscious must have decided for her that she would take control of the situation.

"Sophie, you really do hurt me. Why can you never appreciate what I do?" Howl was over reacting, as usual. Sophie arched an eyebrow and walked over to him.

"Howl, love is not something found in fabric. Nor in perfume. You've simply been too vain your whole life to see this, but it's true. What Martha, or practically any woman really, appreciates is a good, decent man who doesn't think too highly of himself and who isn't afraid to show his feelings for her, without all the unnecessary frills and trills that you always think of!"

"Too vain to know what love is, am I?" Howl said as a wicked smile spread across his lips and he took a step towards Sophie, leaning down so that his mouth grazed her ear. "Perhaps you would like to accompany me upstairs to my room, Miss Hatter. I can assure you that you'll know the meaning of love once we're done."

"Howl Jenkins! The nerve!" Sophie exclaimed, leaning back and lightly slapping Howl across his face. He rubbed his cheek as if it had really hurt.

"I was simply trying to show my feelings for you, Sophie, just as you said a man should!"

"I said a good, decent man! You, sir, are neither of those! Here," she handed him a bucket full of suds and water and a scrubber. "You can finish cleaning this mess!" And with that Sophie marched passed Howl and headed up the stairs.

"And Calcifer, make sure he does it!" she yelled down.

The whole time Calcifer had been quite unable to control his laughter.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: hey guys! what do you think so far? your opinions, thoughts, ideas, etc. matter so very much to me, and I love hearing them! (pretty much: please feel free to review or drop me a pm!) here's the third installment **** enjoy!**

**Theme: Light**

Howl had left at the crack of dawn that morning. The day had been uneventful back at the castle. Michael was out most of the day, and so was Calcifer, much to Sophie's annoyance. But they both came home for supper. Sophie decided not to bother herself about the wizard; she would enjoy her meal and relax after dinner with her friends. And that's exactly what she did.

It got late, and Michael excused himself and went to bed. Sophie followed his example after another hour of chatting with Calcifer about plans for Michael and Martha's wedding. But after slipping under the covers of her bed, Sophie was faced with a huge problem: she couldn't fall asleep. A certain wizard with black raven hair and brilliant green eyes kept popping up behind her eyelids. She sighed, and knew that the only way she could fall asleep was knowing that Howl was home. And there was only one way to accomplish that: wait for him.

Sophie had never stayed up for Howl to come home before. So why did she suddenly care now? She dismissed the thought as she threw her robe over her nightgown and went downstairs. Calcifer was snoring soundly on a bed of logs, and Sophie didn't want to wake him up, so she crossed the room and picked up some knitting she had started earlier that day. It was a pair of socks for a baby. Martha's of course. Well, once Martha and Michael had a child. But Martha had always said that she wanted many children, so Sophie figured that she may as well start playing "Auntie Sophie" just to get a head start.

Knitting in hand, she sat in her rocking chair next to Calcifer's low light. She felt calm.

Sophie knew that it was getting late. She was starting a second pair of socks. If Howl didn't return soon, Sophie would have a lifetime supply of socks for all of the children in Ingary. She kept knitting vigorously, some unknown and unexplored feeling driving her to stay awake. That particular feeling was starting to bother her. What on earth was it? All she could think about was that blasted wizard!

As if her thoughts had summoned him, the door creaked open slowly and Howl quietly crept inside his castle. He knew it was late, but he still wanted to be quiet so as to not wake everyone from their sleep. He thought of Sophie, peacefully sleeping upstairs in her room. He shut the door behind him and turned around.

"Sophie?" Howl said in a hushed tone, eyeing the sleeping Calcifer next to her. He was rather surprised. What was she doing up so late? She couldn't have been waiting up for him…could she? Howl's face softened at the thought. "Sophie, have you been waiting for me?" He walked towards her and looked down at her with loving eyes. When she saw his eyes, that unknown feeling deep within her started boiling up. She turned all of her focus to her needles and wool.

"Don't be preposterous, Howl. What a notion," she said. However, she could sense a light blush rising to her cheeks. She prayed that it would escape his notice in this dim light.

He noticed.

"Well then, why are you still awake?"

"I had trouble sleeping, that's all," Sophie replied, all of her focus still on her knitting.

"So why did you come downstairs?"

"I need to be able to see what I'm doing while I knit!" she said, her voice rising in irritation. Calcifer mumbled softly and Sophie and Howl watched in anticipation to see if he would stir some more. He did. But Howl hadn't gotten to the bottom of the situation yet, and he wasn't about to drop it. So he did the only thing he could think of. He took the knitting out of Sophie's hands, placed them back on the table, and gingerly lifted Sophie up out of her chair, carrying her all the way to his room.

"Howl Jenkins I insist that you put me down this very instant! Do you hear me?" He placed her gently on his bed. Sophie had never before sat on something so cushiony, so, well, comfortable. Howl sat down next to her.

"Well?" he asked.

"Well what?" she demanded.

"Were you waiting for me to come home, Sophie?" There it was again, that blush. Sophie wanted to curse her cheeks, Howl wanted to kiss them. Sophie decided that the best reply would be to not answer. Howl interpreted that as a yes.

"Oh Sophie," Howl drew her into his strong arms, and she was quite unable to think of any protests, "I'm sorry I kept you up. I'm home." Sophie's heart was pounding at an uncontrollable rate; in fact, she was surprised to know it could even go that fast. But form her position, she could feel Howl's heart too, and it was racing just as hard. She placed a hand over it.

"Sophie?"

She looked up into his marvelous eyes. "Yes?"

He kissed her. A simple, short and sweet kiss on her lips. For once in Howl's life, he didn't want to be too forward. He wanted to do things right. Sophie stole a glance into his eyes, and then like the shy mouse she had been when Howl first met her, she quickly looked away. Slowly, a little smile formed on her lips and she mustered up the courage to do something that her heart had whispered to her. She kissed him back. This one lasted a little longer than the previous. But neither of them seemed to mind.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: so…was that last chapter fluffy, or was that last chapter fluffy? But hey, I love writing fluff, and guess what? This chapter is gonna be (drum roll please) FLUFFY! 3 yay! But fear not my dear readers; I vow that next chapter shall be not fluffy, but funny! Ok, I hate sounding like those people who are always saying "please review", but I'm gonna say it, so PLEASE REVIEW! YOUR REVIEWS ARE MUCHO LOVED AND I WILL REPLY AND GIVE YOU CYBER HUGS! plus I love getting reviews to see what people liked and disliked, it gives me a good sense of where I should direct my writing/writing style. Ok, enough rambling, onward with the chapter!**

**Theme: Dark**

Howl couldn't believe it. Sophie was in his bed. Well, not in the sense that one generally thinks of when they hear "in bed". It was simply that the most beautiful girl in all of Howl's life was curled up against him under his heap of comfy quilts. They had not been engaged in any raunchy activities before they fell asleep, unless you would call a few passionate kisses raunchy. But that's all it amounted to; a few passionate kisses. They were both completely covered in their night attire. True, Sophie's hair was a little disheveled, but Howl couldn't help himself. Her long red-gold hair was simply too soft, too inviting to not caress and play with.

He had been asleep for what he assumed was at least two hours, but he had immediately woken up when he felt Sophie reposition herself. He couldn't help but grin, if she was doing anything, it certainly looked as if she was trying to snuggle up closer to Howl. His arm was still protectively and lovingly around her waist. Sophie had turned around in her sleep; she was now facing him (or rather, his chest since he was taller than she). He couldn't see her face; it was hidden behind a great cascade of her red hair. Chuckling softly, Howl gently pushed her locks back over her shoulder and tucked a few strands behind her ear. He really couldn't help himself. After he finished with her hair, he lightly stroked her cheeks with the back of his hand. She was just so perfect. Howl thought of how she looked so fragile and peaceful when she was asleep. Sophie stirred. Howl leaned down and kissed her on the tip of her nose. Her eyes fluttered.

"Good morning M…" Howl stopped himself. What was he saying? He almost called her Mrs. Jenkins! But, it just came out naturally. Howl groaned. Perhaps he needed more sleep.

"Hmm? What did you say?" Sophie said, yawning.

"I said, good morning my love." There, that was better. Well, only slightly better. Why were these words of affection flowing so freely from Howl's mouth?

"Morning?" Sophie said, looking around the room."Howl dear, it's pitch dark outside. Are you feeling well? Were you unable to sleep?" Howl noticed that it happened to her too. "Howl dear". When had she ever called him that before?

"No, I slept just fine, thank you. Don't worry. I just woke up earlier than usual I suppose." He said, looking down at her deep eyes and flashing her one of his rare, sincere smiles. Sophie could have sworn that her heart skipped a beat.

"Ok. Good night Howl," she said as she curled back in a ball, scooting closer and closer towards his warm body. Their feet touched somewhere towards the bottom of the covers. Even though Sophie had shut her eyes, trying to block out the godly face of the man next to her, she still blushed. Well, if she wanted to get closer, there was only one thing more she could do. Their legs willingly entwined. Howl kissed the top of her head and she drifted back to sleep.

"Rwyf wrth fy modd i chi, cariad," he whispered as he too fell into sweet slumber.

**A/N: that last line says "I love you, sweetheart" in Welsh! :D**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Anyone else think it's weird that Sophie and Michael are only 4 years apart? Yeah, and then Howl's 8 years older than Sophie…so what happens when Howl gets into older women who aren't Miss Angorian/the Witch of the Waste?...?**

**Theme: Past**

_My Dearest, Darlingest Howl,_

_I have wonderful news! Now that the war is over, I have finally returned home to Ingary! The whole time that I was away I could think of nothing but you, my sweets! Oh, how I have longed all these months to see your heavenly complexion, to be held in your manly-man arms! Oh! _

_Anyhoo, Mr. Munchkin, I shall stop by your house in two days time (two days from now will be the 23__rd__) around tea time! You can expect me then!_

_With muchie lovie-dovie-wovie,_

_ Betsy Anderson_

"Ugh," Howl groaned loudly. He peered at the pink letter with curly cursive handwriting. "Ugh," he said again.

"Master Howl?" Michael said cautiously from behind a large book, "What's wrong?" Perhaps Howl didn't hear him. Or perhaps it was his slithering ways, but rather than answering he "Ugh"-ed again and a noticeable shiver ran through his body.

"Calcifer, she's found me!" Howl cried in a melodramatic tone. The fire demon had only just entered the castle. He had wanted nothing more than an enjoyable day, chatting with Sophie, laughing at Howl, and teasing Michael. But no. What did Calcifer come home to? A whimpering, self-pitying, over dramatic Howl. Lovely.

"Oh woe is me! The atrocity has returned!" Howl exclaimed, fake sobbing. The he jolted upright from the chair he had sunk into. "Quick! Calcifer, what day is it?"

"How should I know?" the demon curtly replied.

"Quick! Michael, what day is it?"

"I think today's the 23rd, Master Howl. Yeah, it's the 23rd all right. Sophie said that she was going to be at the shop all day on the 23rd because she concocted rainbow roses a few days ago that she was going to put on display on the 23rd," replied the apprentice.

There was a short pause once Michael finished talking and then an even louder "Oh woe is me!" could be heard coming from the main room of the castle.

"What am I to do, oh what am I to do?" Howl sobbed as he shook the pink parchment violently. Just then, Sophie stormed in.

"I'll tell you what you are going to do, Mr. Self-Pity, you are going to shut up before you drive away all the customers!" She had just finished selling the very last of her now very popular rainbow roses, and had gone back to her little green house between the castle and the shop when she had heard Howl's cries.

"No one cares for my welfare!" he countered, just as narcissistically as ever. Sophie was rather annoyed.

"Now, what's all the fuss about?" she demanded. Howl could only shove the letter in her direction, his head hung in shame. Sophie quickly read the letter. She felt a twinge of jealousy, but it quickly passed and was replaced by amusement. But she still felt no sympathy for the wizard.

"Who is Betsy Anderson? One of the girls whose heart you stole?" she asked. But rather than hearing a response from the wizard himself, it was Calcifer who chimed in.

"That's what this is all about Howl? You got another letter from that woman? Geesh!" he exclaimed, then turned to face Sophie. "Betsy Anderson was one of the first girls Howl ever courted, and for that reason she feels strongly that she and Howl are…well…an item, for lack of a better term. Howl, like he does with every one of his courtships, broke it off as soon as she fell for him, but according to Betsy it wasn't over and quite frankly she thinks that it still isn't over."

Sophie snorted. "Of course," she sighed. "How long has this been going on?"

"Ever since he moved his official residence from Wales to Ingary," piped up Calcifer.

"Which was how many years ago?" Sophie realized that she didn't even know when Howl moved to Ingary. And that brought even more questions to mind: _how did he even find Ingary if he's from Wales? I've never heard of his world before, how is it he had heard of mine? Why Ingary of all places? If he always says that there's no magic in his world, how did he learn about it? _But Sophie told herself to slow down, that those were all questions for another time.

"Six years ago, right after he finished university."

"Oh! I remember this one, Howl! She was the one who always wore nothing but pink, am I right? And the one who always had a tiny little dog in her purse. Am I right?" said Michael.

"Ugh! The dog!" wailed Howl in despair.

"I don't see what is so horrible here. This woman obviously has feelings for you Howl, and they're obviously due to your own behavior. So she likes pink and dogs, big whop!" Sophie was far, very far from sympathetic.

"You just don't understand! She's OLD! If she was old then, think of how ancient she must be now!" Howl threw his arms up towards the sky. His blue and silver suit fell off his shoulders and landed pathetically on the chair.

"Vain and rude," Sophie commented.

"How old is she, Howl?" asked Michael. Howl had been seized by the need to turn his life into a soap opera. All his movements became over exaggerated. He whizzed around to face his apprentice.

"Ancient! Ancient, I say! Why, she must have wrinkles by now!"

"When Howl first courted her, he was 21, she was 32," said Calcifer.

"She was so beautiful though! I couldn't help myself; she looked younger than she actually was! Oh, her long blonde hair, her voluptuous figure! It was devastating when I learned her real age! And what's more, she was _engaged!_ She had never told me! I was such a fool back then, such a hopeless, hopeless fool," Howl slumped back down in his chair.

"You still are a hopeless fool," Calcifer blurted out.

"So why is she still pursuing you? Could it be that the engagement was called off?" Sophie asked.

"That's precisely what happened. By then it had already been a little over a year, and I had broken our courtship off long before that. And do you know what she did? Do you know what she did?"

"No, but I have a feeling you're about to tell me," Sophie said dryly.

"She started hounding me down!"

"Oh, poor you," Calcifer remarked sarcastically.

"Precisely! It was so difficult to court other ladies. But I had certainly learned my lesson! From then on I took an oath that I'd only pursue women younger than me!"

"How thoughtful of you," Sophie added, "So what's so horrible about her letter? She has written you before, I presume?"

"What's so horrible you ask? I'll tell you what's so horrible! She's coming over for tea! Believe me, Miss Hatter, once this woman sets her mind to something there is no stopping her. Just like you," Howl exclaimed.

"Just like me?" Sophie said in a cautiously dangerous tone.

"Oh, no no no! What I mean to say is, well, Sophie you can be very stubborn when you wish to be, which is quite often…but as much as I seem to mind, the long and the short of it is that I can put up with you! But I can hardly stand five seconds with that other woman!"

"So you've had to put up with me? Naturally, of course. Because I am such a burden to you, Mr. Jenkins. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a shop to attend to," Sophie said in a risen voice as she marched out of the castle.

"You've done it this time, Howl. Wow, chasing out Sophie just thirty minutes before the arrival of the dreaded Ms. Betsy. This is a new record for you," Calcifer announced. The fire demon and Michael waited in anticipation to see which of those truths Howl would react to: that he drove out Sophie or that he only had thirty minutes until the worst tea time of his life.

"Botheration!" he yelled. Whether it was because of Sophie or Betsy, neither one of Howl's companions could tell.

Howl spent the next thirty moments running around in and out of the castle. A few times he had tried to go over to the shop to talk with Sophie and ask her for her help, but much to his despair she had told the door to not let Howl enter. Howl did not bother freshening up, for he had absolutely no desire to impress the 38 year old Miss Betsy Anderson. And there was no need for him to clean up, for Sophie had already done a perfect job of that. What Howl was really trying to do was to think of a plan to drive out Miss Betsy.

"Howl, you can always just tell her that she's not welcome," Calcifer suggested.

"Calcifer! Really, I'm appalled. I am a gentleman! I suppose a crude fire demon such as yourself would not understand the delicate balance between ladies and gentlemen."

And so time crept past. And then it came, the dreaded knocking on the door.

"Kingsbury!" Calcifer announced. Howl sauntered on over to the door and flung it open in a suave manner. All he saw was pink. Lots of it. No dog though, but lots and lots of pink. The pink was so wide that it nearly touched both sides of the doorframe. And then Howl realized that the big mass of pink was in fact Miss Betsy.

"Miss Anderson, please do come in. It is lovely to see you," Howl said charmingly. Old habits do die hard.

"Oh Howl, how delightful!" came a thick female voice that was trying too hard to sound airy and light. Miss Betsy just fit inside the door and then she waddled into the middle of the main room. "Why, I barely recognize the place. Howl my darling, have you…been cleaning?" Howl however was very preoccupied. His eyes were busy gawking at the size of the woman and his brain was racing to find a way to slither out. And it found one. A coy smile spread across his lips.

"Would you please sit down while I put the kettle on?" Howl asked.

"Oh deary, I'd love that!" Howl suppressed a shudder. The water was practically ready to be poured when Howl called over his shoulder to his apprentice, who had been conveniently hiding behind his half of the workbench the whole time.

"Michael! Run and fetch Sophie, will you? I'd like to introduce her to our guest."

"But, Master Howl, she…"

"Just do it lad!" The boy sprang from his chair and briskly walked over to the door of the floor shop.

"My my my, is that the little orphan you took on as an apprentice all those years ago? Oh, how he's grown! Practically a man already! Time does fly by all too quickly, doesn't it my love? But look at you! You look the same as when I last laid my eyes on your beautiful body!" If Howl had not been trying to be gentlemanly, he would have rolled his eyes. He was saved by Michael who walked back into the castle.

"Sophie says that you will have to wait until she finishes up with some of the customers in the shop. She also wants me to tell you to clean up your own mess," Michael added nervously. Something told him that Sophie wasn't referring to the Howl's cluttered castle. Howl burst out into a fit of laughter.

"Oh, that's a good one! Stubborn as ever that Sophie is!" His fit subsided and he sat across from Miss Betsy at the table. She attempted to take small and dainty sips of her tea, but was not met with much success. Howl sat across from her, all the while the elephant in the room growing larger and larger (and no, the elephant was not Miss Betsy) as Howl waited for Sophie to make her grand entrance.

Howl listened to the little hands on the old clock tick on an on as he tapped the side of his tea cup, trying to hide his impatience. _What's keeping her so long?_ he asked himself. He wondered if she was taking her sweet time on purpose, knowing that it would torture him. _No, that cannot be the case._ Miss Betsy had grown quiet, and had taken to turning around in her chair, scrutinizing the whole main room of the castle. And then Sophie finally strolled in from the shop.

"Sophie! Come here, dear. I'd like to introduce you to an old acquaintance of mine," Howl said as he got up from his seat. Sophie looked at the rather plump woman sitting in front of her. She immediately guessed that it was Betsy Anderson.

"Sophie, this is Miss Betsy Anderson. Miss Betsy, I'd like to introduce you to Sophie." On cue, Sophie gave a polite little curtsy, and Miss Betsy, still sitting, returned the kind gesture with a nod.

"How do you do Miss Betsy?" Sophie decided that she might as well be nice to the poor lady; Howl was trying to get rid of her after all.

"Divinely, thank you. It is a pleasure to meet you Miss…?"

"Missus Pendragon," Howl chimed in.

Sophie froze. She fought off the urge to hit Howl over the side of his head and tell the truth to Miss Betsy, but she thought twice about it. She knew that Howl needed a way to get the woman to stop clinging to him. Sophie may not have realized it, but there was a whispering little voice in the back of her mind that told her that Sophie wouldn't want this lady, or any others, to be clinging to Howl anymore. So Sophie stood there awkwardly next to Howl, maintaining a stoic face.

Miss Betsy on the other hand was in shock. Pure and utter disbelief. So much so that she had dropped her saucer and cup, and upon trying to dramatically stand (once she came out of her delusional state), had knocked over not only her chair, but the whole table as well. Sophie inwardly groaned. _More cleaning. _Then Miss Betsy did the unexpected; she burst into laughter.

"Oh! Haha-HA! What a delightful little joke, my Howl! Truly! You had me fooled there for a moment, my dear! Naturally you're not married! Look at her, standing there like a tree! No signs of affection to speak of! Hahahaha!"

"I do not wish to be improper in front of guests," said Sophie. Something had to be done about this woman, she was going mad. Perhaps she was already mad. Howl turned to Sophie, not expecting her to take his side. He made a mental note to thank her later (something he rarely ever did, but felt it quite necessary this time).

"Improper? Improper you say? Please! I do believe I've done more improper things with this man than your little brain can even dream of, Shop Girl!" Sophie's face flushed. Forget about Miss Betsy for a moment, she was going to target Howl. Her hands balled into fists on her hips, she turned towards the wizard. There was no more need for acting; Sophie didn't have to play a part anymore.

"Excuse me?" she said to him accusingly.

"No, no, love, it's not what you think!" Howl was still acting though. In fact, he was having quite a good deal of fun. Seeing Sophie respond this way naturally only made him happy, proud, and a little cocky. But he couldn't show those emotions in front of Miss Betsy. That would ruin the game.

"Oh, really? Then tell me, Oh Great and Mighty Wizard, what it really is!"

"Sophie! Sophie, you know that there's only you for me. You're all I need. Come now, dear. Settle down love," he cooed desperately.

"Don't you use those pet names with me, Mister Prune! That's what you are! You're a prune you spend so long in the bath each morning!"

At this point they had each forgotten that Miss Betsy was still in the room. Howl and Sophie had squared off, both prepping for a full blown bickering.

"A prune am I? Well then that makes you a catfish!"

"A catfish? A catfish, Howl? How on earth did you come up with that?"

"You keep this place so spotless you must suck up all the dirt and grime! As soon as a speck of dust accumulates, there goes Sophie, off to feed on the dust!" Howl exclaimed.

"Well at least I have a brain then! Unlike a certain wrinkly fruit I know, I don't sit around lazily all day, never lifting a finger unless it will somehow benefit me in the end!" Sophie retorted.

"Wrinkly? You take that back this instant! You know how sensitive I can be about my looks! Mix that with my age and you have a full blown disaster on your hands, cariad!" Howl yelled at her. Sophie was stunned. He had called her…cariad. And not to woo her or to shoo away Miss Betsy, it had just slipped out. And Sophie was…happy? Nope. The happiness was gone. Now she was just frustrated that Howl could so easily affect her. She huffed and stomped out of the castle and back to the shop (even though it was closed now), slamming the door as she went.

Howl ran a hand through his hair, scratching his head and sighing. Their quarrels weren't anything new, but that didn't make him feel any less guilty for yelling at Sophie.

"Now that was something you don't see firsthand every day," Miss Betsy said to no one in particular. Howl's guilt was joined by embarrassment. He had rudely burst in front of a guest.

"I'm terribly sorry that you had to see that, that I lost control in front of you. Please forgive me," he said politely. He didn't look at her; his mind was still too occupied replaying the scene with Sophie.

"Well, whether you two are married or not I think it's clear that there's no room for me here. As much as I hate admitting defeat, I surrender Howl. She's done what I never could," Miss Betsy said as she began to collect herself and head towards the door. Howl followed her and held the door open as she squeezed through.

"And what has she done?" he asked curiously.

"She's captured your heart," she stated. Howl gave her a puzzled look. Miss Betsy raised her hand for him to kiss. As a gentleman, he obliged. "I shall miss you, Howl, but I know that you will be in good hands." She turned around and swayed down the cobblestone street before Howl could utter another word.

If anyone had happened to pass by the wizard's shop that cloudy Thursday evening, they might have caught a glimpse of a formidable spectacle between petty and true love.

**A/N: I'm sorry that this is so late! Forgive me, please! Well, this has been my poor attempt at something humorous. I hope you enjoyed it **


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I would just like to note that the previous chapter, the crazy one with Betsy Anderson, was the longest installment I have ever put up onto fanfiction. Ever. It was a whopping 7 pages on Word! My chapters usually end around 3 pages…**

**So this next chapter which you are hopefully about to read is all about a teenaged Howell (not Howl cuz he's still in Wales). I'm tempted to make him angst-y, but I don't know if that's within my writing abilities yet. We shall find out!**

**Theme: Break Away**

Howell rolled under the mountain of quilts on top of him. An arm quickly dashed out of the warm cocoon and pounded the alarm clock, telling it to shut up. But just then Megan stormed into his room.

"Howell! Wake Up! I know you can hear me, don't make me dump a bucket of water on you!"

"Fi- more mintsss," Howell groaned. He heard Megan's footsteps stomp down the hall, in the direction of the kitchen. She turned on the tap. _Oh, come on,_ thought Howell with a sigh. He reluctantly threw the covers off of him and went out into the hall.

"Ok, ok! I'm awake!" Howl surrendered. Still in a sleepy daze, he groggily wandered over to the kitchen, and slumped into a chair at the table.

"Ugh, stop being so lazy! Mom's not here to cook you breakfast anymore. Can't you even get your own food?" Megan snapped. Howell sighed, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands and then slowly made his way to the cabinet. Bowl. Cereal. Milk. Spoon. Breakfast acquired. He didn't even bother going back to the table, he just stood at the counter and slurped up his cereal. No matter how sleepy a teenaged boy is, he will always have the ability to gobble up food like a vacuum cleaner. Finishing the cereal, he placed the bowl in the sink and headed back towards his room.

"Hey! Drink your orange juice!" he heard Megan holler.

"I hate pulp!" he hollered back.

Back in his room, Howell began the search for his clothes and school bag. Diving into the closest heap, he managed to find his slacks and tie. He threw them in the direction of his bed, hoping to separate them from other piles. His eye caught sight of his white button-down shirt, which desperately needed ironing. Sighing once more, he went back to the kitchen and pulled the ironing board off the wall and filled the iron with water. He looked back at his sister who was sitting at the table eating some eggs. She was already in her uniform and had her bag slung over the chair.

"Meggie, can you iron my shirt for me?"

"Ugh, don't call me that. You're not a cute little kid anymore."

"Megan, can you iron my shirt for me?"

"Fine. Give me a minute."

"Okay." Howell went back to his room and miraculously found his sweater vest and book bag. He didn't bother to check the nag to see if he had all his books, or to make sure he had completed all his home work. He just put it over the doorknob. He turned and faced his room.

"Damnation, where did my slacks go?"

After much hustling, bustling, and fussing, Howell stole one last glance in the mirror, quickly whipped out his comb to put an unruly strand of mud colored hair back in its place, and then deemed himself worthy for public view. On his way to the door he knocked on his father's door.

"Bye Dad. I'm off to school now!" he said through the wood. He didn't expect his dad to open the door, however.

"Listen, boy. I have a very important meeting this evening, very important. We've got a new CEO and I want to get on his good side. So I don't know when it is I'll be home. So don't give your sister a hard time, and make sure you do your studies!" his dad turned away from the placid Howell, "Good God! What time is it? Oh, blast, where did I put my pocket watch?"

"Bye Dad!" Howell called, finally making it out the door. He looked down the side walk and saw that Megan was practically at the next block already. He sighed and continued to walk at his own leisurely pace.

Once in the classroom, he sat nibbling the top of his pen, thoughts floating up in space.

"Mr. Jenkins!" the teacher's shrill voice broke his daydreaming.

"Yes ma'am?" Howell replied in a lazy voice.

"Please answer my question," she said demandingly. Howell sighed and glanced out the window.

"I think you got it wrong ma'am. Any Welshman knows; it's common knowledge that the cyhyraeth isn't the Grim Reaper. It's a spirit that comes to you when it's your turn to die. It moans three times, each time growing fainter. By the time its last groan fades, you're dead," he said, not even bothering to look at the teacher in her dull grey pin skirt and hideously ruffled blouse.

"That is not what the textbook says Mr. Jenkins," the teacher said with a vibrato in her annoying voice, looking down at him over her spectacles.

"Butain braster," Howell said, turning away from the window and resting his cheek in his hand. The other kids in his class tried to stifle their giggles.

"I don't know what it is you just said Mr. Jenkins, but you will be staying with me afterschool," she said resolutely.

"Always a pleasure Mrs. Bennett," Howell said flashing her a charming smile. A smile that most adolescent boys shouldn't have been able to pull off.

School bell after school bell, the day was finally over and Howell lazy strolled over to his History classroom. Knocking on the door, he entered when he heard Mrs. Bennett's horrid "Mmhmmm" in response.

"I'm here for detention," Howell said sitting in his seat, swinging his school bag over the back of the chair.

"Don't get too comfortable in that chair just yet, Mr. Jenkins," she snipped, her nose glued to a stack of essays. Howell stood impatiently next to the desk. Mrs. Bennett took her horrid red pen and drew a large X on the essay before moving it to another stack. Only then did she look up at her student.

"Now, Mr. Jenkins, tell me why you are here," she said in a sicky-sweet voice.

"Just punish me already Mrs. Bennett and let me leave, please," he said in his most polite voice.

"No."

"Alright then. If I'm not here to be punished, I'll be off," Howell said in an uncaring voice, grabbing his bag and trying to make it to the door in time.

"Not so fast, if you please!"

"Mrs. Bennet…"

"Mr. Jenkins, you will turn around and walk back to the center of this classroom this very instant."

"By all means, of course. However, it would be rather difficult for me to stand in the exact center of the room. That would require prior knowledge on the location of said spot. Knowledge that I do not have. So as to fully please you, allow me to go fetch a measuring tape, yes?" Howell said in his most sarcastically pleasant tone.

"I don't like that attitude, Mr. Jenkins. I don't like it at all. You know what you are?"

"I am a homo Sapien."

"Blast it! Yes, yes, by all means be as completely literal as possible! You're wasting your own time too you know!"

"Mrs. Bennett, if I am wasting your time, then wouldn't it be in your best interest to send me off?"

"You will stand right where you are, Mr. Jenkins and listen to what I tell you to do!" Howell, this time, did what he was told (reluctantly, of course).

Books. That was Howell's punishment. Mrs. Bennett escorted him down to the school's dusty and cramped library and kept close watch on him as he re-wrote all of the library cards on the inside cover of the entire "History" section. And it was painful. Time seeped through the fingers of eternity at an incredibly slow rate as Howell sat on a stool in front of an enormous bookshelf.

Every single one of the books were written in English, not a Welsh word in site, save for the names of students on the library cards. Howell lazily put another book back in its place, shifting his hand over to grab the next. But…

"Mrs. Bennett, what language is this written in?" Howell called over to the teacher who was hunching over a cup of tea and a peanut butter sandwich.

"English, naturally," she replied without even glancing in his direction.

"No, it's not. Here," Howell said, groggily lifting himself up off the floor and crossing over to her. "See?" he said, opening to the first page.

"Well then it must be Welsh. That also means that it has no place in our school library. Thank you for finding it, Howell, we'll take it out to the garbage bins when we're done," she stated matter-of-factly.

"But Mrs. Bennett, this is not Welsh!"

"Why of course it is! Don't be silly, boy!" she said taking another slurp of tea.

Howell grew angry, in fact, he had an urge to smash her disgustingly yellow tea cup on the ground and smush her sandwich into her face. But he opted for walking back to the rows and rows of books, rather than receive more punishment.

Transfixed on this new language, Howell remained glued to that book. It was strange: the further he read, the more he felt like he actually understood the language. Which was preposterous, because he had never seen it before. Eventually the shelved walls and musty air and annoying sounds of slurps faded away, and Howell was left alone with this book, his imagination unhinged.

**A/N: I'm ending it there. I'm terribly sorry for my extremely long absence, but what can I say? Life got in the way. Grrr.**

**So the Welsh. "Buatin braster" means "fat whore" XD **

**I really wanted to explore how Howell discovered magic, and Ingary, etc etc. I would have kept going with this chapter, but I came across a huge roadblock and honestly I feel like I was just rambling. But you get it, right? He's living a normal,boring life and stumbles upon this book, which I guess is written in Ingarian and suddenly he finds himself. Yeah. I guess. I wanted to end it with him going back home, having some sort of argument with Megan, and then somehow or another end up accidentally transported to Ingary, or finding some why to suddenly step into Ingary or something like that. Oh well. Too many loose ends that I'm too lazy to clean up. **


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: I'm honestly going into this with absolutely no idea of what I'm about to write. I have no idea if it's gonna be fluffy and mushy and cheesy and corny and all those yummy things, or if it's gonna be solemn and somber, funny and quirky, or just crack. Yeah. Check out all those themes right there! (w00t! shout out to AP English, haha). **

**So…I don't even know what it is you're about to read. I hope you enjoy it?**

**Theme: Heaven**

The pitter-patter of the rain on the old roof was interrupted by Sophie's younger sisters. Screaming. Again. Sophie heaved her shoulders. She would much rather stay over in her corner by the window, reading her book on the lazy, rainy, Saturday afternoon, but she figured she should check on her sisters.

It was, as usual, an extremely minimal situation, so in no time Sophie was back in her comfy room. She lost herself somewhere between the browning pages of her book and the light taps above her, and drifted off into a small sleep.

"Sophie…Sophie dear?" Her eyes lazily fluttered open. She felt her father's leathery and wide hand lightly nudge her shoulder.

"Yes Father?" came a groggy response from her coarse throat.

"Well…uh…I only just closed up the shop, and well you're sisters are hungry, and well, you see…"

"I'll make supper, Father. Don't worry," Sophie answered as she always did when he asked this. Supporting herself on the arms of the chair, she pulled herself off, and carelessly dusted off her skirt as though she had been sleeping for ages.

"But, the thing is…could you run to the market, Sophie dear?"

"Of course, Father," she said giving him a small smile, placing her hand on his shoulder. He smiled gratefully and nodded his head a few times. They walked out of her little room together and he went to get her the market basket as she secured her hat and shawl and waited by the door.

"Here you are. Well, buy whatever you see fit. You have a good head on your shoulders, Sophie dear. You know better than I what food to buy." Again, she gave him a small smile and said a quick "Be back soon!" as she headed out the door.

The evening air was crisp and sharp and Sophie fidgeted with her shawl, trying to warm her shoulders better. A little past Cesari's was the harbor where she may be able to bargain for some good fish. And perhaps she would even pick up some little cakes from the famous bakery as well.

But Sophie was in no rush, she casually walked down the busy cobblestone road, the clacking of her shoes and the hearty laughs of others surrounding her senses. Pretty soon she smelled the salt in the air, and the smell of hard-working bodies that no man's perfume could cover up.

Sophie found herself sitting at one of the tables at Cesari's with a dainty cup of tea warming her palms. On the ground next to her was her basket filled with a cod and a salmon, garlic, onions, a bushel of rosemary, and two pounds of flour. She sighed and took another sip of tea. She had absolutely no idea what she could whip up with what she had purchased, but she seemed to have a knack for making good, filling suppers out of random ingredients. Looking out of one of the ceiling-high windows in the bakery, Sophie realized that the sun was starting to drift off under the lazy horizon. _Haven't seen much of the sun at all today, and of course it only comes out when it's time to go to bed_, she thought. Taking one final sip of tea, Sophie grabbed her basket, paid the waiter, and headed home.

_I wonder if mother still watches the sunsets_, Sophie pondered on her way back down the road. The vegetable stands had been folded up, the fishermen's boats were docked, and it was much calmer than it had been a few hours ago. Apart from Sophie, there were only a handful of others left in the market square. Walking along at her own, comfortable pace, Sophie looked up at the fading, expansive sky, and did something she hadn't done in years:

"Dear Mother," she began, her voice not daring to go above a soft murmur. "Father's doing fine. He hasn't spoken of it yet, but I have a feeling he might be looking to re-marry. You'll let him, won't you? He needs some happiness in his life. Lettie is fine as well. She's still as rambunctious of a kid as ever, but it's nothing that a little time won't solve. Little Martha is still Little Martha, cute and clever as ever. And me…well, I'm getting by just fine too. I do miss you though. But please don't feel burdened or blame yourself, you couldn't help the illness. How are you? How have you been? Are you doing alright up there?"

And Sophie found that she couldn't go on. For one thing, she was already at the front door of her house, and secondly, while she wasn't upset or crying, she just couldn't get anything else out.

Hoisting the basket on her hip, she dug into her pocket to get out her key. Once inside, Sophie closed the door behind her, took of her hat and shawl, and carried her basket over to the kitchen.

**A/N: I'm sorry. I can't even explain what it is you just read. Yeah. I don't know. It's the change of season that's getting to me, you know, that little bit of nostalgia and depression that comes with the fall. At least for me anyways…So anyhoo, last time it was a chap. just for Howl before Sophie, this time it was a chap. just for Sophie before Howl. Yeah. Hope you liked it? **


End file.
